


The Road to Christmas

by Persiflage



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Clothed Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Meetings, Hand & Finger Kink, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Masturbation in Shower, Naked Female Clothed Female, Neck Kissing, Outdoor Sex, POV Character of Color, Porn with Feelings, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Shower Sex, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 12:50:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18829012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: AU: Michael finds herself forced to take a road trip in order to get to her foster brother's wedding on time.





	The Road to Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Acardio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acardio/gifts), [nomisunrider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomisunrider/gifts).



> Once again my Bitch Muse shoved an idea down my throat and wouldn't leave me until it was written. So here, have 14k words inspired by the Jennifer Grey & Clark Gregg movie 'Road to Christmas'.
> 
> No, I've no idea what I'm writing Christmas fic in bloody May, but there we are.
> 
> I borrowed [Milky](https://onaperduamedee.tumblr.com/tagged/Milky-Georgiou) from Radiolaria | onaperduamedee with her permission.

Michael stares in dismay at the airline representative, a black woman about her mom’s age had her mom lived, who’s just told her that her flight’s cancelled because of bad weather – a snowstorm! – at the destination. Then she glances out of the airport window at the blazing sunshine.

“Honey, we’re a thousand miles away from Chicago,” the woman says, amused. 

“I know,” Michael says glumly. “I know. It’s not your fault. It’s just – deeply frustrating.”

“There’s a car rental place a couple of blocks over,” the woman says helpfully. “Maybe try them?”

“I will. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank you for being so understanding,” the woman says. Then adds, “Merry Christmas, honey.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too.” Michael grabs her wheelie case and rolls it away from the airline’s counter, then crosses the check-in area and passes gradually through the airport and back outside into the street. The sun continues to shine tauntingly at her as she waits at the cross light.

Her eye is caught by a young woman across and a little further down on the other side of the street. She’s got a mass of curly, bright red hair and she is hanging onto the side of a beat-up looking green pickup truck and laughing hysterically at something. There’s an Asian woman standing a few feet away, leaning over the side of the truck into the bed of it. She’s wearing a cute purple beret, tight black jeans, and a battered black leather jacket, and Michael swears she feels her heart skip a beat when the Asian woman begins laughing in response to the redhead. Then she notices the traffic’s stopped, and she hurries across the street and turns, a little regretfully although she’s not sure why, away from the pair she’d been observing, and follows the directions on her smartphone towards the car rental place.

She isn’t very surprised when she discovers that she’s unable to hire a car at the car rental place – she needs a reservation, which she hasn’t made of course, and they have no cars available before tomorrow. But she needs to leave today if she’s to make it to her foster brother Spock’s wedding in time. She sighs in resignation, then moves out of the building into the parking lot.

A man comes up behind her. “I’m heading your way if you wanna ride,” he says. She looks up and sees a man in his late forties, a red and white checked bandana around his throat above an open-necked green plaid shirt, over which he’s wearing a blue denim jacket, along with blue denim jeans. She notices that he’s looking her over, too, although it’s a little more lascivious than she’d like.

“Gabe,” he says, holding out a hand. “Gabe Lorca.”

“Michael,” she says, and takes his hand.

“Michael?” he asks.

“I was named after my late father,” she tells him, then waits to see what he’ll say. Some people can be very weird about her having ‘a man’s name’. 

“Huh,” Lorca says. “So, you wanna ride with me?”

“Thanks,” Michael says, and follows him across the parking lot to a cherry red Porsche 911. She rolls her eyes behind his back, figuring he looks the type to drive a Porsche, and when they reach the car, she puts her case in the trunk.

They climb into the car and Lorca revs the engine a few times, for dramatic effect she assumes, then pulls out of the parking lot with a screech of tires – also, presumably for effect, or possibly to prove what a hardass driver he is – Michael’s not entirely sure.

She spends the first few miles on her phone, texting her foster mom, Amanda, and her brother Spock to let them know the situation, and giving them the car's licence plate number, then checking that the weather in Chicago hasn’t gotten any worse since her flight was cancelled.

Then she gives her attention to Lorca, who’s listening to and commenting on a local radio station where someone’s banging on about immigrants flooding into the country, using up local resources, bringing diseases with them, etc. The kind of offensively inaccurate racist badmouthing that she gets tired of hearing so regularly from insecure white people. 

She does her best to respond neutrally, rather than with the seething rage this stuff engenders in her, when Lorca invites her to agree with the racist bile that’s being spouted. She herself is descended from slaves, but the possibility of this seems to escape him, and in such a closed environment, and with him in charge of this powerful car, she doesn’t want to risk challenging him. Who knows how he might respond?

After two hours of this unremitting bullshit, though, her patience is wearing thin. “Any chance we could listen to some music?” she suggests during a commercial break.

He frowns at her and she sighs internally, then has to listen to thirty minutes of his lecturing, which involves a lot of ‘people like you’-ing, which is nearly as tiresome as the outright racist bile that’s still being spouted on the radio. 

Then he decides that he needs a bathroom break, and she heaves a silent sigh of relief as he pulls into the parking lot of a motel to go and use the bathroom. Quick as a flash, as soon as he’s out of sight, she pops the trunk on the car and hurries to grab her case, then hurries even more quickly across the parking lot and around the corner, only to slam into a body coming the other way. She’s vaguely aware of a black leather jacket, worried brown eyes beneath a purple beret – _a purple beret?_ – and hands flashing out, but not quite fast enough, to grab her, before she’s falling towards the asphalt. She lies where she’s fallen, too winded and startled to move for a moment, then a loud, worried voice says, “Oh my god!” and an anxious face topped by a mass of curly red hair is leaning over her.

“Are you alright?” asks the young woman urgently. “You haven’t broken anything, have you? ‘cos I’ve been trained to do first aid and everything, I’ve just never had to use it before. You don’t need mouth-to-mouth, sadly –”

“Tilly!”

A sharp interjection from said Tilly’s companion, then an older Asian woman is leaning over Michael and helping her up.

“I’ve got you,” she says, her voice warm and comforting. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Michael says, still a bit breathless from the impact. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“You did come around that corner like a cat with its tail lit on fire,” observes Tilly, with a breathless laugh. “Wait! Were you running away from someone?” 

She starts to move towards the corner, and Michael gasps, “Don’t look!” at the same time that the Asian woman grabs her wrist and stops her. 

“Stay here,” she orders.

“Yes, Captain,” say Tilly, a little incomprehensibly as far as Michael’s concerned. 

“Who am I looking for?”

“Driver of a cherry red Porsche,” Michael tells her. 

The woman nods, then moves to the corner of the building and casually saunters around it.

“Are you okay?” Tilly asks, a warmly concerned look in her eyes. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“He didn’t attack me, no,” Michael says. “He just was giving me bad vibes.” She heaves a sigh. “Well, and he was being verbally abusive.”

The next moment she finds herself being almost crushed in a hug that makes her stiffen in shock – she’s not used to being hugged, least of all by total strangers.

“Let the poor woman go, Tilly,” says a voice behind her, and Michael hopes Tilly doesn’t catch her sigh of relief at the timely arrival of the ‘Captain’. “What have I told you about hugging people?”

“No unsolicited hugs of new people. It’s unfair to them,” recites Tilly, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry. I forget, sometimes. I love hugs. They’re so comforting and –” She checks herself. “Hugs are not comforting to everyone.” She says the latter with an air of non-comprehension that Michael finds oddly endearing despite her previous discomfort.

The Asian woman rests a hand lightly on Michael’s shoulder. “He’s gone. He stomped around for a few minutes, evidently thinking you’d gone to the bathroom, then he went inside, and I presume he discovered you hadn’t been seen by the check-in staff, who couldn’t have missed you. Then he came out, slammed into the car and took off at break-neck speed.” She gives Michael a searching look. “Are you alright?”

Michael opens her mouth, taking in a breath to answer, then suddenly discovers tears are trickling down her face. “I – I’m – suh-sorry,” she stutters, absolutely mortified.

“Shh, it’s okay. No need to apologise,” the older woman says firmly. “Are you okay with being hugged now?”

Michael jerks a nod, and the older woman immediately wraps her arms around her, then Tilly steps in behind Michael and she suddenly finds herself sandwiched in a hug. It feels more comforting than Michael could’ve expected – her foster family are great, really seriously great, but not big on the whole hugging thing, and it’s only now that Michael’s realising that she’s maybe been missing out on a lot.

She feels a handkerchief being pressed into her hand, and realises that her arms are hanging at her sides, so she wraps her right arm around the woman in front of her, while she lifts her left hand to mop at her tears with the handkerchief she’s just been given by Tilly’s ‘Captain’.

Eventually her sobs stutter into hiccoughs, then she shifts, and both women loosen their arms. 

“Tilly, why don’t you go and bag us a table, get our usual coffees and donuts,” the Captain says. “Do you drink coffee?” 

Michael nods, and manages to croak out a preference for a flat black, and to agree that yes, she does eat donuts, then Tilly’s warmth disappears from behind her. 

“I’m Philippa, by the way.”

“Michael.”

Philippa lifts a hand to cup her cheek, thumbing the last of her tears away as she gazes into her eyes. “Are you okay?” she asks intensely. “He didn’t –”

“No,” Michael says quickly. “Just verbal abuse, of the usual racist variety.”

“I’m glad he didn’t attack you,” Philippa says. “And I’m sorry to hear he was a racist. Though not surprised.” 

“Yeah,” Michael agrees weakly.

“Feel up to being around people?” Philippa asks, “or shall I go and collect your coffee for you?”

“I'm okay, thank you,” Michael assures her.

“Okay.” To Michael's surprise, Philippa grabs the handle of Michael's case in her left hand, then she wraps her right hand around Michael's forearm. 

“Sorry, I should have asked, you okay with me holding your arm?”

“Yes,” Michael says quietly. 

“Good, ‘cos you still look a bit shaky.” 

“I feel it,” Michael admits.

“Where are you heading?” 

“Aspen, for my foster brother's wedding on December 23rd.”

“You didn't want to fly?”

“I was all set to, but they have heavy snow down there, so no flights in or out. And because I didn't have a reservation I couldn't hire a rental car.” 

“Which is why you were riding with the racist piece of shit, presumably?” 

“Yes.”

“Well you're in luck,” Philippa says. “Tilly and I are heading that way. I always spend Christmas with my friend Kat, and she lives near Aspen. I'm giving Tilly a ride so she can stay with her grandparents, who also live nearby. You can ride with us if you like.”

By the time Philippa has explained this, they're inside the motel dining room, and Michael spots Tilly at a corner table, drinking coffee and playing a game on her phone from the look of things. 

Philippa steers Michael into a seat opposite Tilly, positions her case to the side of the table where it won't be in the way, before sitting beside her. 

“One flat black,” she says, passing the cup and saucer. “Help yourself to the donuts.” 

“Thank you,” Michael says gratefully, and helps herself to one and a napkin. 

They eat and drink in silence for a few minutes, and Michael’s surprised by how comfortable she feels with the two women. Generally speaking she’s often quite awkward around other people, especially strangers.

“Tilly called you ‘Captain’,” she observes after finishing a donut. “What sort of Captain are you?”

“I fly SOFIA, NASA’s Stratospheric –”

“Observatory for Infrared Astronomy,” Michael says with her. “Oh my god! You’re Captain Philippa ‘Phil’ Georgiou!”

Philippa ducks her head, a surprising reaction, Michael thinks, for someone who is so famous since she’s NASA’s only woman pilot of SOFIA – surely she’s used to being recognised. 

“Yes,” she agrees, and Michael can see she’s actually blushing. 

She chuckles. “I work at Plum Brook Station,” she tells her. “In the Zero-G Research Facility.”

“No way,” Tilly exclaims. “We were just up there. Huh.” She stares at Michael accusingly. “I saw you!” 

Michael flinches slightly at the young woman’s tone.

“Tilly,” Philippa says in a warning tone.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” the young woman says immediately, obviously contrite. “It’s just – I did see you, a couple of times. You kinda stand out wherever you go.”

Michael feels floored by this remark, then notices that Philippa’s nodding.

“She’s not wrong about you standing out.”

Michael’s not quite sure what to say in response to this, so she asks Tilly what she does.

“Oh I’ve been working aboard SOFIA – carrying out experiments, testing equipment.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“I love it!” Tilly says emphatically, which makes Michael smile. This young woman is enthusiastic, friendly, and full of a positive energy that she finds very admirable.

They spend about forty five minutes in the motel’s dining room, then after making use of the bathroom, they head back out to the parking lot to where Philippa left her pickup truck. She tells Michael she can safely put her case in the back, and she hefts it up, only to get a shock. 

“What the hell is that?” Michael asks, flinching backwards from the bed of the pickup truck as something large and white rises up in front of her.

“Oh that’s just Milky, the Captain’s dog. Isn’t he great?” Tilly says brightly, laughing and reaching towards the creature, who doesn’t take her arm off, to Michael’s great relief. Instead he slobbers all over her hand, then her face too, and she giggles hysterically, making Michael raise a single eyebrow in wonderment and disbelief. “C’mon Milky, get down boy. There’s a good dog. Let the nice lady put her bag in the back, okay?”

The dog slobbers on her further, then turns his attention to Michael. She’d swear he’s smiling at her.

“Problem?” asks Philippa, appearing at her side. She’s got the faintest smirk on her face, as if she’s _daring_ Michael to have a problem with her dog.

“No,” Michael says shortly, and hefts the case over the tailgate of the truck, then sets it down. She’s resigned to the fact it’ll end up getting slobbered over, but she still almost flinches when the dog flops down next to her case, then rests his chin on it and peers over the top of the tailgate at her. 

“He likes you,” the Captain says in a low voice.

Michael tries not to notice how pleased she feels that this ridiculous dog likes her. “Really?” she asks sceptically. “How can you tell?”

“He’s not barking his head off at you.” Her arm brushes against Michael’s as she reaches out to fondle the dog’s head. “Plus, he isn’t chewing on your case.”

“I’m flattered,” Michael says dryly.

The other woman chuckles, a low throaty sound that makes Michael ache. “You should be,” she says, bumping her shoulder against Michael’s. “He doesn’t like everyone.” She turns and starts to move away, then looks back at Michael. “You coming?”

 _Not yet,_ Michael thinks absently, then flushes at the thought. The Captain is smirking again, as if she can read Michael’s mind, which just heightens her flush. 

She ducks her head, aware that Philippa is laughing at her from the other side of the truck, then moves towards the passenger side. Tilly is waiting for her to climb in, and Michael does so, then realises she should’ve insisted on sitting near the door since this arrangement means she’ll be sitting next to Philippa to whom she is rapidly discovering she is incredibly attracted. She heaves a mental sigh, then resigns herself to her fate.

She calls Amanda to let her know that she’s got a different ride, and casually mentions it’s Captain Philippa Georgiou – getting exactly the excited reaction she’d anticipated. She gets an update on the weather from her mom, which she passes on, and promises to call again when they stop for the night.

Soon after that Tilly falls asleep, her head propped against the window, which is softened by her folded up coat.

“Be grateful she hasn’t fallen asleep on your shoulder,” Philippa says with a fond smile at the younger woman.

“My shoulder thanks her,” Michael deadpans, making Philippa laugh. 

She settles into her seat, making herself as comfortable as she can – despite the beat-up look of the pickup, the interior is fairly comfortable with a fancy leather seat that resembles an actual sofa, rather than the more usual sort of truck seat. The heater works, which they don’t need right now, but will doubtless be glad of once they get closer to Chicago. And there’s a sound system that Philippa wirelessly hooks up to her phone. She puts on some music, keeping the volume relatively low so it won’t disturb Tilly’s sleep, and allows them to actually have a conversation without the need to raise their voices. Philippa puts on some jazz, then she begins talking about her experiences working for NASA, and the two of them spend at least an hour simply comparing notes. Michael’s 30, Tilly is 22, and Philippa is 43, so there are enough years between them for them to be able to measure NASA’s changing approach to women, particularly women of colour, in their workplace. 

After that they talk science then, when Michael’s properly relaxed, the conversation becomes more personal, and she can’t help wondering if this is a deliberate ploy of Philippa’s – to get her feeling relaxed and safe before talking about their respective families. Philippa talks frankly about her failed marriage, explaining that it broke down almost entirely because of her.

“I was a workaholic,” Philippa says. Then snorts. “Still am, to a large extent. We’ve remained friends, though.” 

“My parents died when I was nine,” Michael volunteers. “A bad RTA. They were forced off the road by a couple of boy racers who then smashed up their own cars. Some would say it’s karma that they died as well, but I found it unjust, and very infuriating as a child.”

Philippa rests her hand on Michael’s forearm, then slides it down to her wrist before lacing their fingers together and squeezing her hand for a bit. Michael squeezes back although part of her would prefer to snatch her hand back and shove it in her pocket because, by this point, she’s beginning to want to kiss Philippa. Even so she’s startled when Philippa apologises for the gesture.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have touched you without asking. I just find it hard to resist when you look in need of comforting.”

“It’s okay,” Michael says. “I’m just not used to the whole casual touching thing. It’s not something my family does. And I don’t have any friends who are close enough to do that kind of thing.” 

“That’s a great shame,” Philippa says earnestly. “You’re a very nice person to cuddle with.”

“You know that from one stressed-out hug?” Michael asks teasingly.

“You bet,” Philippa says. 

Michael shakes her head disbelievingly. 

“What?”

“I only half hugged you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Philippa says. “I know for a fact that you’re a good cuddler.”

“If you say so, Philippa,” Michael says with a quiet laugh.

“I do.” She squeezes Michael’s hand again, then asks, “What did your parents do? Did either of them work for NASA?”

“No. Mom was an anthropologist, Dad taught astrophysics.”

“Hard and soft sciences – I like it. I’m guessing you followed in your dad’s footsteps?”

“Not initially. I took two degrees at both undergraduate and Masters levels.”

“What?” Philippa lets go of Michael’s hand so she can grab the steering wheel to correct a mild swerve – Michael assumes it’s caused by surprise.

“I did my first Bachelor’s degree – in anthropology – when I was in my mid-teens,” she explains.

“You must be one hell of a prodigy,” Philippa says. 

Michael blushes. “I inherited my parents’ brains. And it helps to have an eidetic memory.”

“I’ll say.” She shakes her head. “Damn, you make me feel like an idiot. I was nearly 30 before I even took my Bachelor’s degree.”

“Degrees aren’t everything. Besides, you fly SOFIA – that beats all the degrees in the world.”

Philippa chuckles softly. “Thank you for that.”

A few miles further on they stop for a bathroom break and for Philippa to refuel. Tilly is very reluctant to wake up and Michael has to escort her as she remains half asleep. Once Tilly’s back in the cab of the pickup, Michael goes in search of Philippa, who’s gone to find coffee and sandwiches in the gas station’s store.

She turns a corner and walks into a solid body, but unlike when she ran into Philippa, this person catches hold of her elbows to keep her upright.

“Your pardon, ma’am,” says the man. He’s got a good six or seven inches on her, and is just starting to go grey at the temples. He’s got blue eyes with crow’s feet around them, and laughter lines around his mouth, and Michael feels breathless at the way he smiles at her as he holds her steady. “You okay?” 

She nods, then finds her tongue. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Me either,” he says. He slides his hands from her elbows to her shoulders and for one wild moment Michael thinks he’s going to kiss her, and she feels a flush of heat sweep from her face to her sex.

Then he pulls away, gives her a nod, and moves off down the aisle. Michael remains where she is for a moment, waiting for her heart to stop racing and for her lungs to remember how to function. She’s still standing there when Philippa finds her. The other woman gives her a concerned look.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael says, wondering if she sounds as dreamy as she feels.

“You sure? You look shell-shocked.”

“It’s been a bit of a day,” Michael says, and hopes Philippa won’t ask any further questions.

Fortunately, she doesn’t. She just nods, then gestures at the counter, and the coffee machine alongside. “Shall we?”

Michael nods in turn, then follows Philippa, getting coffee for herself and for Tilly, while Philippa makes her own. They pay, and Michael carries her coffee, and the paper bag holding their sandwiches and snacks, while Philippa carries Tilly’s coffee and her own.

As they walk over to where Philippa left the pickup, Michael sees her tall stranger climbing into a blue two-seater. She notes that he’s alone which makes her feel better, even though she knows it’s ridiculous – he could be on his way to his lover, or his family. And it’s not like she’s going to ever see him again.

She climbs into the pickup, moving over the console on the driver’s side to sit beside Tilly, then takes the two cups of coffee that Philippa’s carrying so that she can start the engine and move them away from the pump.

Philippa drives a few miles down the road, then pulls off the highway onto a side road, and Michael wakes Tilly up again to drink her coffee and eat a sandwich. The caffeine and food properly awaken the young woman, and after that they play silly word games.

They’re just pulling into the parking lot of the hotel where Philippa’s booked two rooms for the night when Michael gets a text from her brother Spock that makes her growl. 

“Are you okay?” Tilly asks anxiously, hand clasping Michael’s forearm tightly. 

“Fine,” Michael says. “Just my brother being a dick –” Tilly gasps, her eyes and mouth wide in shock, which makes Michael smile a little. “ – like he too often is,” she finishes.

“What’s he being a dick about?” asks Tilly, then she adds, “You don’t have to tell me, obviously. Your private life is totally private and I wouldn’t want to pry, and –”

“Breathe, Tilly,” Philippa says sternly.

The young woman obeys, gulping in air noisily. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Michael says. “It’s just something he forgot to tell me about the wedding. His wedding that’s in precisely two days time.” She rolls her eyes. “Forget it, it’s not important right now.”

“Okay,” Tilly says, back to her overflowing cheerfulness just like that.

Michael climbs out of the cab after her, but she feels Philippa’s eyes on her back and when she turns around to close the door, the older woman raises both eyebrows at her, and Michael nods. They’ll discuss it later.

“C’mon Milky,” Philippa says as she lets down the tailgate on the truck, then hauls out Michael’s, Tilly’s, and her own case after the dog has leapt down. He immediately moves into Michael’s space and leans his head against her knee.

“Told you he likes you,” Philippa says with a soft laugh.

Michael rolls her eyes, then reaches down to pat his head. “You ridiculous dog,” she says, and he turns his head and licks her hand. “Philippa should’ve called you ‘Slobberer’,” she tells him, which makes both Tilly and Philippa laugh.

They head inside, and Michael and Tilly wait with Milky in the reception area as Philippa goes to get their keys. She’s at the counter for longer than seems strictly necessary, and when she comes back she’s only carrying one keycard.

“Okay, slight – uh – issue with the rooms,” she says, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain.

“What’s up?” Tilly asks immediately. 

“Apparently a guest left their bath running until it overflowed, damaging three rooms in the process. And because it’s almost Christmas and very busy, they only have one room available for our use. It’s got two King beds in it, but it means two of us will have to share.”

“I can go to another hotel,” Michael says immediately. “I’m the one imposing here.”

“And how likely do you think it is that you’ll find one nearby with a room available, given it’s almost Christmas?” asks Philippa.

Michael shrugs. “Then I’ll sleep in the truck – that seat’s pretty comfortable, and –”

“No you won’t,” says Philippa sharply. “That’s an invitation to trouble. You’ve no idea who’ll be coming and going through the parking lot during the night.”

“Fine,” Michael says shortly. “I’ll sleep on the floor, or in a chair if the room possesses any.”

“Or you could share my enormous bed with me,” Philippa says. Her voice is quiet as she makes the offer, and her shoulders are tense, but Michael can’t tell if that’s because she’s anxious about sharing a bed with Michael, or for some other reason she cannot discern. She is not very good at reading people, she knows.

“Fine,” Michael says again. “We’ll share. I don’t believe that I snore.”

“Me either,” Philippa says, and Michael swears she can see the tension leaving the other woman’s body.

“I snore,” Tilly says brightly, then blushes scarlet. “But only a bit, not as much as Milky.”

Michael laughs. “Duly noted, Tilly.”

They cross the lobby together, then pile into the elevator which whooshes them up six floors in what feels like only six seconds. Michael feels like her heart’s fleeting along at much the same speed, and she can feel her palms growing sweaty. She does her best to keep her breathing even, rather than hyperventilating.

They file out of the elevator, and troop down the hallway with Philippa and Milky in the lead, and Michael trailing along in the rear.

The room, when Philippa opens the door, seems enormous, but it probably isn’t – it’s just that she’s spent the entire day in the very small cab of Philippa’s pickup.

“I call dibs on the bed by the window, and on the first shower,” Tilly announces in a positively gleeful tone as she sweeps into the room ahead of them.

“Go on, then,” Philippa says, clearly amused. 

“Yay, thank you, Philippa!”

Tilly proceeds to open her case, piling things indiscriminately onto the bed by the window, before she pulls out her toiletries case, then she dives into the ensuite without so much as a backward glance.

“She’s a tonic,” Michael observes dryly, and Philippa laughs.

“Isn’t she, though.” She sits on the end of the other bed, then gives Michael a searching glance. “Are you truly okay with sharing with me? Because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” Michael says firmly. “Thank you for asking.” She swallows. “You’re always doing that – checking in with me, and asking permission to touch me. No one’s ever done that for me before.”

Philippa raises her eyebrows. “Well they should,” she says. Then she surprises Michael by changing the subject. “Your text from your brother earlier. It’s not trouble, is it?”

Michael snorts. “He texted to say that he forgot to tell me that I’m supposed to bring a Plus One to the evening dance and buffet supper thing he’s having.” She shakes her head. “Apparently I can just summon someone up at two days notice.” She blows out a breath, then shakes her head. “Typical Spock.”

“How mad will he be if you go alone?”

“Oh he won’t be mad, in the shouting-and-ranting at me sense anyway. He’ll just be endlessly sarcastic in a very dry way – and he’ll bring it up at every opportunity in the future.” She shook her head, endlessly frustrated by her younger brother and his dramatics.

“Well, there is one person you could ask, who’s not hundreds of miles away, and who happens to be free on the evening in question.” Philippa smirks at her.

“Really?” Michael asks, a little disbelievingly. “You’d do that for someone who’s virtually a stranger?”

“If it’ll spare you from your little brother’s sarcasm, in a heartbeat.”

“Thank you.” Michael feels a little overwhelmed, and ducks her head to open her case and rummage through it for her toiletries bag and her sleepwear.

By the time she’s found her things, Tilly’s exiting the bathroom in a cloud of sweet-smelling steam, so Philippa tells her she should take the next shower. Michael doesn’t argue, she just slides inside, closing the door behind her and wishing she didn’t feel as nervous as she does about sharing a bed with Philippa. 

When she exits the bathroom, Tilly’s already in bed and she appears to be asleep. Milky is sprawled on a travel rug that’s spread across the bottom of Tilly’s bed, his nose resting on his paws and his eyes half closed.

“Pick whichever side of the bed suits you to sleep,” Philippa says as she brushes past Michael on her way into the bathroom.

Michael nods, puts her toiletries bag back into her case, then pulls out her e-reader. She climbs into bed, picking the side that’s nearest the wall, and settles down with her book. She deliberately keeps her breathing soft and even, and does her best to keep her heartrate steady too.

Philippa emerges from the bathroom and immediately directs a smile her way, then she crosses the room to drop her toiletries bag into her case. “We good?”

Michael nods and watches as Philippa turns out the central light, leaving the room looking cosy with just the two lamps on their nightstands to provide light. She climbs into bed, and Michael forces herself to go back to reading her book instead of focusing on how it’s both weird and pleasant to share a bed with someone. 

Eventually she feels herself growing sleepy so she turns off her e-reader, then her bedside lamp.

“I’m just going to finish my chapter,” Philippa tells her. “Five minutes, tops.”

“That’s fine,” Michael says. She shifts down the bed, then turns onto her right side, her back to Philippa. She’s not quite asleep when Philippa turns off the light on her side of the bed, then shifts behind her. Michael wants to peek over her shoulder to see how Philippa’s positioned herself, but she doesn’t. She drifts into sleep wishing that Philippa would hold her, and telling herself sternly that she’s a fool for even thinking that such a thing might happen.

MB-PG-MB-PG-MB

When she wakes the next morning it’s to find that Milky is lying between her and the wall, on top of the covers thankfully, and that Philippa has wrapped herself around Michael in her sleep. Their legs are tangled together, and Philippa’s left arm is draped over her waist, while her right arm’s curled against Michael’s back. She swallows down a moan as she realises her sex is wet and open, and her nipples have stiffened into peaks. There’s nothing she can do about the situation until Philippa wakes up, but she wishes she could slip into the bathroom to get herself off in peace.

She tries to shift a little as her right arm is going dead where it’s trapped under her body. Philippa stirs behind her, her left arm shifting up her torso until it rests just below her breasts, and her right arm pushing under Michael’s body until she’s wrapped Michael in both arms. 

“Fuck,” Michael says, _sotto voce_ as she feels a treacherous pulse of want throbbing in her sex. 

Philippa nuzzles her nose into the nape of Michael’s neck, just below her hairline, then murmurs Michael’s name, which makes her throb even harder. She can’t stand this any longer – she’s absolutely desperate to pleasure herself, so she pulls away from Philippa and switches on the lamp on the nightstand.

Philippa groans, Milky grunts, and Michael crawls down the length of the bed between their two bodies, then grabs her toiletries bag and ducks into the ensuite. Tilly is still sound asleep, and judging by the lack of noise anywhere, Michael guesses that it’s still fairly early.

She locks the bathroom door, then leans back against it for a moment, feeling herself trembling with a sense of disquiet: she hadn’t expected Philippa to wrap her in her arms, or to murmur her name while nuzzling her neck. She shakes her head, then pulls off the tee and pants that she usually sleeps in, before stepping into the shower cubicle and pulling the door closed. She starts the water running, then pulls the pipe from its clamp on the wall, and spreading her legs, she aims the showerhead at her throbbing, aching sex. 

It takes less than five minutes to work herself up to an orgasm, and she leans against the wall afterwards feeling awkward and unhappy – even if Philippa does want Michael, it still feels like an abuse of her trust to masturbate while picturing the other woman on her knees in front of Michael. 

She turns off the water, replaces the showerhead in its normal position, steps out of the cubicle, and dries herself off vigorously before pulling on a pair of jeans, a tee, and a button down shirt. She adds some socks and her boots, then lets herself out of the bathroom with a feeling of trepidation. 

To her relief Philippa’s now got her face buried in Milky’s fur, and her arms are wrapped around the ridiculous dog. She manages to slide between the wall and the bed long enough to grab her e-reader and turn off the lamp, then she picks up her phone and her purse, before heading downstairs to the lobby to wait for her companions to wake up so she can have breakfast. 

The night porter, a black woman somewhere between Michael’s and Philippa’s age, checks that she’s not waiting for a taxi, and when Michael claims insomnia’s got her up, she kindly fetches Michael a black coffee from the coffee machine that’s kept behind the counter for staff use. She also unearths some oat biscuits, both of which Michael accepts with gratitude. 

“Going much farther today?” the woman, Ellen according to the name badge pinned to her shirt, asks.

“Aspen,” Michael answers.

“Ouch,” Ellen says. “Bad snowstorm there yesterday.”

“I know,” Michael says, allowing some humour to creep into her tone. “I got grounded because of it, and instead of flying down, I’m now driving down. Although, I’m not the one doing the actual driving.”

“You didn’t want to leave it and see if they opened the airport there today?”

Michael shakes her head. “It’s my brother’s wedding the day after tomorrow.”

“Ah, makes sense. You taking part?”

“I’m the Best Man,” Michael says.

Ellen blinks, then smiles. “Yeah?” Michael nods. “You wearing a suit and all?”

“A tux,” Michael says.

Ellen whistles, low and appreciative. “Bet you’ll look like hot stuff,” she says, grinning. Then she glances at the radio slung on her belt. “I’d better get on. Drive safe and have a good wedding.”

“Thanks,” Michael says. She’s not quite sure what to make of the ‘hot stuff’ comment, but she appreciates the other woman’s friendliness.

She reads her book, highlighting things and making notes, while drinking her coffee and eating the oat biscuits. 

She’s been there just over an hour when her phone buzzes with a text. _Where are you? Please tell me you’re okay? Phil._

 _In the lobby, safe as houses_ , Michael replies.

_We’re all awake up here. You coming back up?_

Michael wonders which would be more awkward, waiting for the others to come down for breakfast, or going back upstairs, then she sighs and texts back an agreement before crossing the lobby and taking the elevator up to her floor. She knocks lightly on the door and Philippa opens it immediately.

“You gave me one helluva scare,” she says, sounding both cross and worried.

Michael notes that Tilly’s missing and the bathroom door’s shut, so she presumes the younger woman is there.

“Sorry,” Michael says. “I just woke up stupidly early and didn’t want to disturb anyone else by reading in bed.”

Philippa shakes her head, then reaches out to touch her shoulder. “Are you okay? You don’t normally suffer from insomnia, do you?”

“Not as a rule. I guess I’m just a bit anxious about the wedding.”

Philippa smiles. “I’ll get you there, that’s a promise.”

“Thanks.” Michael smiles, then turns away and focuses on packing her case again. 

“We’ll hit the road as soon as we’ve had breakfast. They’ve started serving it already, so we’re just waiting on Tilly.”

“Okay.”

“Milky didn’t disturb you, did he?” 

“Nope. I woke up to him sandwiched between me and the wall, but he didn’t wake me up.”

“Good.”

Tilly comes out of the bathroom before the conversation can grow awkward – Michael’s not sure whether Philippa can surmise that the two of them were cuddled up, given that Philippa must have woken up wrapped around Milky, but she’s absolutely determined not to mention it if Philippa doesn’t. 

Tilly greets her enthusiastically, and begins chattering about her grandparents, expressing her excitement at seeing them again as she hasn’t seen them since her summer break. 

“They’d love to meet you, Michael, if you have time for a proper visit before the end of your holidays.”

“Thank you, Tilly, I appreciate the offer. I can’t make any promises, but if I can fit such a visit in, I will.”

“Yay!” Tilly dances about a bit, and Michael chuckles at her unabashed delight. She finishes packing while describing the farm where her grandparents live, and Michael wonders briefly about the young woman’s parents, whom she has yet to mention. Somehow, though, Michael doesn’t like to ask outright.

They’re finally all packed, so they head downstairs to have breakfast, leaving their cases in their room until they’re ready to depart. 

Breakfast is quiet – both because few of the other hotel guests are up yet, but also because Tilly is absorbed in eating, Michael is distracted, and when she dares to glance sideways at her, Philippa seems pensive. Michael wonders what she’s thinking about, but doesn’t quite dare ask. She feels regret for the situation she’s wound up in – even though no one’s at fault. She certainly doesn’t blame Philippa for the fact that they ended up cuddling while they were sleeping, and she’ll admit, to herself if no one else, that she’d enjoyed it. It’s been three years since she broke off her engagement with Ash Tyler, whom she’d loved dearly, after Michael discovered that he’d been cheating on her with a young woman named L’Rell. Since then she has occasionally had a sexual encounter, but it’s never been more than a one-night stand, and she’s always been careful not to stay the night once the sex is over. She fears being burned again.

They’re on the road by 8am, and Michael takes the window seat, saying that she might fall asleep given how early she was awake. Philippa shoots her a sceptical glance, but says nothing. Tilly doesn’t seem to mind where she sits – she’s full of a bubbling enthusiasm that fortunately keeps the situation from becoming far too awkward to be tenable. 

Michael does doze off for a couple of hours, then wakes with a crick in her neck, and her back aching from the awkward angle at which she slept. She’s glad when Philippa decides on a bathroom and coffee break soon afterwards so that she can get out of the truck’s cab and stretch her muscles. 

To her surprise, after Philippa and Tilly have gone inside, Milky suddenly leaps lightly over the tailgate and runs towards a nearby stretch of woodland. She runs after him, calling his name and trying to persuade him to return, but he ignores her happily. He pauses to pee up against a tree a couple of times, but never long enough for Michael to catch him up, despite the fact that she’s an excellent sprinter.

Eventually she loses sight of Milky, and repeated cries of his name are thoroughly ignored. Michael sighs heavily, then pulls out her phone to text Philippa and shamefully admit that she’s managed to lose her damn dog. 

She turns around to follow the path back to the parking lot, and realises that there is no path – she’d simply taken the line of least resistance while following the dog – and now she has no idea whereabouts she is in relation to the gas station. She swears vigorously, then looks up at the sky to check the sun – which isn’t out, of course.

She shakes her head, blows out a breath, then texts Philippa three words: _I’m lost, too._

Her phone pings with a text almost immediately: _Stay right where you are. I’ll use my GPS tracking app to find you. We’ll worry about Milky after I find you._

Michael sighs heavily, pockets her phone, then leans up against a tree. One way or another the last two days have been unbelievably stressful and she can’t help thinking she’ll be glad to get back to work after Christmas – she’s not used to dealing with either interpersonal issues, or the weather throwing her plans for a loop.

Ten minutes later she hears Philippa moving towards her, but she remains slouched against the tree, feeling like it’s too much effort to continue to pretend that everything is normal between the two of them.

“Are you okay?” Philippa asks as soon as she and Michael are within speaking distance of each other. She crosses the space between them in a handful of strides, then stops within arms’ length. “Michael?”

“When I woke up this morning I was in your arms,” Michael says, aware this is something of a non sequitur. “You were nuzzling the back of my neck and our legs were tangled together.” Philippa looks completely astounded. “And I was so fucking wet for you that I had to go and masturbate in the shower.”

Philippa’s eyes go wide, then she steps right into Michael’s space and says huskily, “I want to kiss you.”

“Yes,” Michael gasps. 

Their mouths crash together, their noses bumping until they find the right angle, and then it’s the most perfect, all-consuming kiss that Michael’s ever experienced. She feels as if she’s melting into the tree as she grows hyperaware of her body: her breasts grow heavy and her nipples tighten, and her sex grows hot and wet as Philippa’s hands move over her face, and her mouth slides over Michael’s.

She manages to insinuate a hand under Philippa’s clothes, and she feels the coiled strength of the other woman’s back muscles as she traces her fingers up and down her spine. Philippa growls, then retaliates by pressing her knee between Michael’s legs, and Michael gladly ruts against the other woman’s leg until she climaxes hard, pulling her mouth from Philippa’s with a gasp of pleasure. 

Michael gets Philippa’s jeans open one-handed, then slides her hand into her panties, lightly teasing the folds of her sex until she plunges her fingers directly into the other woman’s slick heat. 

“Fuck!” Philippa’s gasp of surprise is the most perfect thing Michael’s heard in a long time, and she wastes no time in working her fingers deeper into Philippa’s sex, searching for her G-spot, which she eagerly massages while rubbing her thumb on Philippa’s clit until she comes with a cry that she muffles by burying her face in Michael’s shoulder.

“Bloody hell, Michael,” Philippa says, sounding breathless and astonished.

“I want your fingers inside me,” Michael tells her urgently, far more aroused now than she had been while rutting against Philippa’s knee.

“Darling, it will be my pleasure,” she says immediately. She quickly unbuttons Michael’s jeans, then insinuates her hand into her underwear. 

Michael moans loudly when her new lover teases her, tracing the tip of her index finger along the lips of Michael’s sex without inserting it.

“Philippa!” she gasps desperately. “Please!”

“I do love making a woman beg,” Philippa says against her ear. “It’s so empowering.”

Michael groans, her hips bucking against Philippa’s hand. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Philippa says with consummate assurance. She slips her finger into Michael’s sex, then eases it out and rubs some of her slickness against her clit, making her groan again.

“I like to take my time about pleasuring my lovers,” Philippa continues. “It heightens the experience for both of us.”

“I – gah! Unf!” Michael’s reduced to incoherence as Philippa continues to tease her, her mouth hot against Michael’s ear, then kissing along her jaw, until she tilts her head back as far as possible without hurting Michael, and sucks on her throat. At the same time, she twists her fingers (she has three inside her now, Michael notices) around until she finds Michael’s G-spot, which she stimulates with considerable precision. Her thumb presses against Michael’s clit and she comes with a loud cry of pleasure, her hips bucking against Philippa for the second time.

“Fuck!” Michael gasps once she can form words. (She’s not sure she can manage entire sentences yet.) Then, “Milky.”

Philippa pulls back to stare at her in disbelief, then she must realise that Michael’s looking over her shoulder. She half turns and there’s the damn dog sitting a few feet away, smiling and looking far smugger than should be possible for a dog, even Milky the Samoyed. 

“Well at least we don’t have to go hunting for him now,” Philippa says, before leaning in for another kiss.

“We should get back,” Michael says eventually.

“Yes,” Philippa says. She sounds very reluctant.

Michael gives her a long, slow kiss, then pushes gently at her shoulders, and her lover steps back a pace, which gives her room to sort out her clothing – although she can’t do anything about her panties, which are quite wet from her juices. She’ll just have to live with the discomfort and hope that they’re not totally ruined hereafter.

Philippa tidies up her own clothing too, then they turn around and head back through the wood, following Milky who seems supremely confident of the way, and indeed, they step back out on the edge of the parking lot only a few minutes later. 

“I just want you to know that I want more from this, from you, than a quick fingerfuck in the woods. But only if you do too.”

“I do,” Michael says immediately.

“Good.” 

They cross over to where the pickup’s parked, their hands and arms brushing together, but they don’t hold hands. Michael doesn’t mind. It’s enough to know that they’re on the same page right now.

MB-PG-MB-PG-MB

After they drop Tilly off at her grandparents’ farm they have a forty minute drive to get to Philippa’s friend’s place. Katrina has invited Michael to have dinner with them before Philippa drives her the last few miles to her parents’ place. 

“You’ll like Kat,” Philippa assures her. “She’s a psychologist and very blunt, but for all that, she’s immensely kind and caring. We’ve been friends since high school.”

“I like her already,” Michael says, smiling. 

Philippa stops her truck at the edge of Tilly’s grandparents’ property, then leans over and kisses Michael. She sighs into Philippa’s mouth, and lets herself get just a little bit lost in the sensation of being kissed by someone as talented as her new lover. 

When they break apart for air, their chests heaving, Philippa says, “I want you. I want to taste you. I want my mouth on your tits, and your belly, and your cunt. I want my fingers working inside you, driving you to orgasm after orgasm until you’re hoarse from screaming.”

“Fuck, Philippa!” Michael groans, even more thoroughly aroused than she had been by the kissing. “You can’t just say things like that.” Her protest is feeble though, and she can tell by her lover’s smirk that she knows it.

“I can. I just did.” Philippa kisses her again, her right hand cupping Michael’s breast through her clothing. Then she nips at Michael’s bottom lip, and it’s a miracle, Michael thinks, that she doesn’t climax all over again.

“I need you to stay with me tonight,” Philippa says, sounding breathless and even a bit desperate. “Call your family and tell them my pickup truck’s broken down, and I won’t be able to bring you over before the morning.”

“I don’t know if that will work,” Michael says glumly. “Mom’s bound to offer to send someone over to collect me.”

“Damn.” 

“Yeah.” Michael kisses her softly. “There’s no reason you can’t stay over with me tomorrow night, though,” she suggests. “In fact, it’d be the responsible thing for you to do given how much alcohol will be available, and how late the party’s likely to run.”

Philippa sighs. “Very well. I will just have to possess my soul in patience.”

Michael can’t help smirking at that. She pecks her on the lips, then says, “Shall we?” and gestures at the highway.

“Okay.”

Michael straightens her clothing as Philippa starts the engine and pulls out onto the highway. She wonders what her mother will say if Philippa stays over, then decides she’s not going to mention it – she has her own suite of rooms at former Ambassador Sarek’s mansion, which includes a futon – let Amanda assume that Philippa will sleep on that if she realises beforehand that the other woman is staying over with Michael. 

They get a surprise when they arrive at Katrina Cornwell’s place – in the shape of a man named Christopher Pike. The bigger surprise is that he’s the man Michael bumped into the day before at the gas station – the one whose quick reflexes saved her from falling on her ass for the second time in one day. 

“We’ve met,” Chris, as he insists they call him, says. “We literally bumped into each other in a gas station yesterday.”

“You didn’t mention that,” Philippa observes in a low voice as Chris explains in greater detail to Kat.

“It didn’t seem important,” Michael says equally quietly.

Katrina waves Philippa towards her usual guestroom, and suggests they take their time about freshening up as dinner will be at 8pm. That gives them almost an hour, Michael realises, and she is therefore wholly unsurprised when Philippa bolts the door to her room before pressing Michael up against said door and beginning to kiss her while unfastening her button down shirt.

“There’s a very comfortable looking bed not six feet behind you,” Michael observes, already breathing heavily. “We already fucked up against a tree today. I’d quite like to try it while horizontal.”

Philippa laughs softly, then pulls back before grabbing Michael’s hand and drawing her across to the bed. She makes short work of stripping off Michael’s clothes, then hastily disrobes herself before pushing Michael down onto her back on the bed. She’s a bit surprised when Philippa doesn’t go straight for her breasts but instead lifts Michael’s right hand up and kisses her knuckles. Then she curls Michael’s hand up and back to press another kiss to the palm of her hand, and Michael feels her breath hitch and stutter in pure astonishment combined with instant arousal. Philippa doesn’t stop there, however. Her mouth moves to Michael’s inner wrist and places several soft kisses there, before she slides her mouth up Michael’s inner forearm to kiss the inside of her elbow. She repeats these kisses on Michael’s left arm next, before kissing along one collarbone to the hollow of her throat. 

Michael moans as that hot, talented mouth works its way down her throat to pause between her breasts.

“Left or right?” 

It takes Michael a few moments to assemble her thoughts into order, let alone figure out an answer. 

“Left,” she says, and Philippa’s mouth lands on her left breast and suckles hard at her nipple, making her moan, squirm, and press her thighs together. “Philippa. Please.”

“Not yet my love,” the other woman says firmly. “Be patient and I’ll make it worth your while.” She carefully tightens her teeth around the peak of Michael’s breast, and she cries out sharply as an unexpected orgasm crashes through her body.

“Fuck,” Michael gasps, startled.

Philippa hums as she switches to Michael’s right breast to repeat the process. After giving her a second orgasm Philippa’s mouth works it way down to her belly, where she plants several biting kisses before swirling her tongue around Michael’s belly button.

Then she kneels at Michael’s feet as she pushes her legs open. Michael can’t help groaning at the picture she presents, her mouth poised to plunge into the depths of her sex.

“Fuck, Philippa,” she says, breathless and needy. “Take me, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely, my darling.” She lowers her head to blow a steady stream of air over Michael’s sex, before plunging her tongue inside.

Michael climaxes immediately, and she cries out quietly in pleasure. Philippa, of course, doesn’t stop at one climax, and by the time Michael is trying to push the other woman’s head away before she becomes wholly overstimulated she’s had five, or possibly six climaxes. She’s lost count.

Philippa groans a little as she gets to her feet and rubs at her knees, but she has the biggest grin on her face as she leans down, taking her weight on her hands, and kisses Michael, letting her taste herself on her mouth.

“Okay?” she asks softly.

“Better than okay,” Michael assures her. “But I’m going to need a shower before we have dinner.”

“Uh-huh.” Philippa kisses her again, then helps her up off the bed, slinging an arm around Michael’s shoulders when it seems like she’s going to fall over.

They share a shower and Michael soon has Philippa pressed back against the wall of the cubicle as she kisses her lover while working her fingers into Philippa’s hot slick sex. She moves her fingers fast and hard, her thumb pressing relentlessly on Philippa’s clit as she drives her to orgasm after orgasm until the other woman is gasping and shaking with pleasure.

“Please, Michael, no more,” she begs eventually, and Michael eases her fingers free, then sticks her hand under the still running hot water to clean Philippa’s juices off her skin.

“You’re incredibly sexy,” Philippa murmurs, pulling her in for one final, open-mouthed, sloppy kiss before they carefully climb out of the shower.

They dress again, and Michael’s grateful for the chance to change her panties after Philippa made her come in them so often when they were looking for Milky earlier. 

Once they’re properly clothed again, they go out to rejoin Kat and Chris, whom they find in the kitchen – Chris with his body plastered to Kat’s back as she stirs something on the stove, and his mouth busy giving her a hickey.

Michael and Philippa exchange wide-eyed looks, then back away and sit on the couch by the fire. “Did you know?” Michael asks.

“Hadn’t a clue,” Philippa responds. “She hasn’t mentioned him before, either, so it must be a very recent development.”

“I wonder who he is,” Michael says curiously. 

“We’ll find out over dinner,” Philippa says.

Milky stirs himself from his spot by the fire where he’s been snoozing, and comes across to drop his chin on their knees, Michael’s knee being pressed closely enough against Philippa’s to act as a chin rest.

“Hello you,” Michael says, scratching at his chest with her free hand (yes, she and Philippa are holding hands like teens, but she definitely doesn’t care what anyone else thinks about that). “You’re my hero.”

“Why?” asks Philippa.

“Well if he hadn’t gotten lost, we wouldn’t have ended up in the woods together.”

She snorts. “We’d have still got together, though,” she says firmly.

“Really?” Michael asks sceptically.

“Of course. I wasn’t going to let you go on pretending that we hadn’t slept cuddled up together last night.”

“Okay. I think I like the way Milky brought us together, though.”

Philippa sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes, which makes Michael chuckle. “You’re just an old-fashioned romantic,” she complains.

It’s Michael’s turn to snort this time. “Like you’re not, Captain Philippa ‘Kiss my knuckles and up my arms’ Georgiou.”

Philippa laughs, and they’re leaning into each other, chuckling, when Kat appears and tells them dinner’s ready. Milky returns to his spot in front of the fire, and Michael lets Philippa lead her over to the dinner table that Chris is just finishing laying.

They settle down and begin eating, and Chris asks Michael what she does when she’s not being knocked on her ass by random strangers – which elicits more mirth than he’d expected, to judge by his expression. Michael explains that she and Philippa met in just that way, although sadly Philippa’s reflexes hadn’t quite been quick enough to save Michael from hitting the deck.

“Which is no reflection on the speed of her reflexes,” Michael adds. “It’s just that I was moving rather fast at the time she and I collided compared to when you and I bumped into each other.”

She then goes on to explain that she, like Philippa, works for NASA, and she outlines a little of her work, with Philippa following up briefly on her own role as pilot of SOFIA. Chris then explains that he’s an army vet and he met Kat when he brought a troubled young man to see her.

“I run a support group for vets,” he explains, “and Gant was struggling a great deal because he was given a medical discharge. So I sought out someone who could talk to him, and found Kat via a word-of-mouth recommendation.”

They talk more generally over the rest of the meal, and by the time Michael’s refusing coffee so that Philippa can drive her to her parents’ house, she’s wishing she could stay longer. She likes both Chris and Kat – the latter is every bit as blunt as Philippa had said, but she’s kind with it. And Chris is very thoughtful for a military man – in Michael’s admittedly limited experience of them, they tend not to be very reflective. She’ll admit, too, that she finds both of them very attractive, and she wonders how it is that she’s met three people she finds sexually attractive in the space of forty-eight hours, when she hadn’t met any at all in the preceding eighteen months.

“Penny for them,” Philippa says, her hand coming to cover Michael’s as they drive.

“I’m not sure I should share,” Michael says. “You might get jealous.”

Her lover chuckles at that. “Okay, then let me guess – you were thinking about banging Chris?”

Michael flushes. “Maybe,” she says cagily.

Philippa sniggers. “Don’t worry, I thought about it, too.” 

“And Kat,” Michael admits.

“Hmm?”

“I was thinking about banging Kat as well,” she says with a smirk.

“Oho! Were you thinking of fucking them individually, or as part of a threesome?” Philippa asks in a teasing tone.

“Oh I was thinking of a foursome,” Michael says slyly.

She can tell she’s startled Philippa by the way her hand tightens on hers. “Really?” 

“Really,” Michael says firmly.

“That would be hot.” Philippa shifts her hand so she can steer around a corner. “Sadly, though, I don’t think Kat would be up for it. She’s a serial monogamist.”

“Pity,” Michael says lightly. 

They don’t talk much after that, but Michael doesn’t mind – the silence is companionable and Philippa needs to concentrate on the snowy road in the darkness.

When she finally pulls up on the drive a little distance from the front door, Michael sighs. “Tomorrow’s going to be such a long day,” she says. “I shall be counting the hours until you arrive.”

“I’ll be counting too,” Philippa assures her. “And I shall go to sleep tonight thinking of you.”

“Same,” Michael says quickly. She leans over and gives Philippa a lengthy kiss, then they pull apart and Michael slips out of the cab, then grabs her case from where it’s propped against the seat. “See you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here,” Philippa promises. Then she blows Michael a kiss, which she thinks might be the corniest thing any of her lovers has ever done, but she blows one back, then walks the remaining distance with a grin on her face. 

She lets herself into the house, and is met almost immediately by Amanda who’s crossing the central hall as Michael enters. 

“There you are, darling,” she says, hurrying over to Michael. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make it.”

“Sorry mom,” Michael says, and lets go of her case to return Amanda’s hug.

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“A proper meal?” Amanda checks. “Not gas station sandwiches and snacks.”

“A proper meal,” Michael says. “With green vegetables and everything.”

“Good.” Her mom cups her face, looking at her searchingly. “You look done in. Do you want to go straight up to bed?”

“If you think no one will mind,” Michael says.

“Of course not, darling.” Amanda kisses her brow, then her cheeks, then says very quietly by her left ear. “You’ve found someone to make you happy, I notice.”

Michael has no idea how her foster mother does this – it’s downright uncanny as far as she’s concerned – but she always seems to know when Michael’s in a new relationship.

“I have,” she agrees, because it’s useless to deny it. “She’ll be my Plus One tomorrow night.”

“I look forward to meeting her, whoever she is.” Amanda gives her a quick nod. “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”

“Yes. Thanks mom. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, darling.” Amanda heads off in the direction she’d been going before, and Michael crosses to the staircase and begins to make her way upstairs. 

She doesn’t run into anyone before she can reach her suite, to her immense relief, and she’s very glad to bolt the door behind her, then drag her case into her bedroom. There’s a fire lit, for which she’s very grateful, and she unpacks only the essentials from her case, then goes into the bathroom to wash and clean her teeth before she changes into the pants and tee she normally wears in bed. She checks the drapes are closed properly against any draughts, puts another log on the fire, then climbs into bed and heaves a sigh.

She sends Philippa a goodnight text, and receives back a photo of her lover, sprawled naked on her bed with a hand between her thighs, and she feels a flush of heat sweeping outwards from her sex at the sight. Shaking her head, she takes a photo of herself with her bedding pulled up to her chin, and her tongue poking out. “Too tired for masturbation,” she types, then adds some kisses.

She gets a string of kisses back, and chuckles, then plugs her phone in to recharge before she settles back and turns out the bedside lamp. Sleep comes almost instantly.

MB-PG-MB-PG-MB

The following evening Michael and Philippa meet up a few minutes before the evening buffet and dance begins. She can't help staring at her lover as she takes in the long gown Philippa wears. It's silver in colour with a plunging neckline and slits up to the thigh. And when she hugs Philippa, Michael discovers that the dress is also backless and she feels her breath hitch in her throat at the discovery. 

“You look stunning,” she says, voice low.

“You look pretty incredible yourself,” Philippa responds warmly. “I would never have pictured you in a tux but, if you'll pardon the pun, it really suits you.”

Michael feels a flush of heat sweep through her. “Thank you.” She crooks her elbow at Philippa, who chuckles softly, then hooks her hand through. 

“How did the wedding service go?” Philippa asks as Michael leads her indoors. 

“It was beautiful,” Michael says. 

“Good.” 

“How are Katrina and Chris?”

“Missing you. As was I.”

“After only a few hours in my company?” Michael asks, scoffing a little. 

“You're a very charming companion, Michael.” 

She's spared from having to find an answer by their arrival in the ballroom. Michael gives Philippa's name to Spock's best friend, Jim, who is doing the announcements, and they are duly announced. 

Once across the threshold Michael is aware that they're attracting attention, and does her best not to cringe. 

“Relax,” Philippa murmurs against her ear, her warm breath making Michael shiver.

“Not easy when your Plus One is famous,” Michael retorts. She feels an idiot for not considering this before inviting Philippa. People are entitled to their privacy, especially at a private family party. She recalls how embarrassed Philippa had seemed when Michael had realised who she was that first day and she feels annoyed with herself for her own lack of sympathy. 

“I'm sorry,” she says remorsefully. “I didn't consider –”

“It's fine, Michael. This isn't the first time that I have been recognised. I doubt it will be the last, either.” 

Before Michael can respond her foster mother arrives at Michael's elbow. 

“Amanda, this is Philippa, my date. Philippa this is Lady Amanda Grayson, my foster mother.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lady Amanda,” Philippa says smoothly, and it occurs to Michael that she must have been introduced to hundreds of people over the years while she's been piloting SOFIA.

“How do you do, Philippa. We're delighted that you came tonight. Both Sarek and I are very grateful to you for driving Michael down here after that snowstorm two days ago.” 

“Has it affected you much, in terms of the guests getting here?”

“Fortunately not. Most arrived in the earlier part of the week, before the snow hit.”

“That is lucky,” Philippa agrees. 

“Anyway, before you get caught up in a crush of people wanting to say Hello, Sarek and Spock would both like to meet you.” 

“Of course.” Philippa gives Amanda a charming smile, and Michael feels a pang of disquiet at her mom's words.

“I'm sorry that you're going to be turned into a spectacle,” she says quietly.

“It's fine, Michael. I anticipated the probability of this when I offered to be your Plus One.”

“I didn’t,” she admits. “It never even occurred to me. Apparently I’m an idiot.”

“No you’re not,” Philippa says immediately. “Trust me, Michael, it’s fine.” She tightens her hand on Michael’s arm. “Relax. Please.”

“I’ll try.”

They reach the spot at the far end of the ballroom where Sarek is ensconced with Spock and his new bride, Nyota Uhura, beside him. Amanda makes the introductions, and Philippa is charming and friendly, answering their questions courteously and without giving the impression that she’s been asked them dozens, or possibly hundreds, of times before.

Then the orchestra begins to play, and Michael and Philippa step aside so that Spock can lead Nyota out for the first dance. After a little while Sarek leads Amanda onto the dance floor to join them, and Michael nods after them.

“Would the good Captain care to join me for a dance?” she asks, bowing deeply.

“I should be honoured, my Lord,” Philippa answers, sweeping her a curtsey.

They laugh, aware that they’re being silly, then they walk onto the dance floor, and Michael finds herself immensely glad, not for the first time, that her foster mother had insisted on her having dancing lessons as a child, not least because it’s perfectly obvious that Philippa is an incredibly good dancer. 

They both dance with other people after that – swapping between Spock, Nyota, Sarek and Amanda, before Michael sees Jim approaching Philippa to ask for a dance. She resigns herself to the fact that she probably won’t get to dance with her lover again for the rest of the evening, but she fully intends to eat with her when they pause for the buffet supper.

She dances with Leonard, Scotty, Hikaru and Pavel after that, then she takes a break and watches Philippa, who’s whirling around the floor with Scotty. She likes Spock’s friends, although she doesn’t see them often these days, but they don’t seem to have changed a lot since their college days. She wonders, sometimes, why it took Spock so long to get together with Nyota, since she knows the other woman has been interested in Spock since they first met.

The orchestra finishes playing and a gong sounds, indicating it’s time to eat. Michael is already on her feet and making a beeline for Philippa, reaching her just in time to offer her arm to her lover before Scotty can finish offering to take her through to where the buffet supper is laid out.

Philippa seems to be glowing from her exertions and Michael can tell she’s been having a good time; she tries not to feel jealous of the fact. They can’t, of course, sit down in a quiet corner with their plates of finger food for very long before someone joins them and starts talking about SOFIA, and Michael finds herself relieved when the orchestra finally begins playing another dance tune. She immediately gets to her feet, then holds out her hand, and Philippa chuckles, abandons her nearly empty plate, then accepts Michael’s hand. 

“I want you to myself,” she tells her lover in a low voice.

“I want you,” Philippa says with a heated look.

Michael feels a sharp spike of arousal down her spine and nods. “As soon as this dance finishes, we’re going upstairs,” she says, her voice even lower.

“Good.” Philippa leans in and nips at Michael’s ear, and she shivers as heat and moisture begin to pool in her sex.

The waltz comes to an end, and Michael leads Philippa across the dance floor, only to encounter Amanda in the doorway. 

“I must say, Philippa, you look as if you could do with some fresh air,” she says immediately. “Michael, why don’t you take Philippa up to your suite to cool off.”

“I love you, mom,” Michael murmurs. “You’re the best.”

Amanda smiles, then moves on into the ballroom.

“Did your mom just give you permission to take me upstairs and fuck me?” Philippa asks as they cross the central hall.

“Basically,” Michael says with a giggle.

“She really is the best.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. They pause at the foot of the stairs so that Philippa can remove her shoes, then they hurry upstairs, breathless and giggly.

Michael bolts the door to her suite as soon as they’re inside, and Philippa pauses in the middle of Michael’s sitting room to stare around her. Michael watches as her lover registers the telescopes in the corner, each one pointing through a different window to focus on a different part of the sky. There are shelves of books on the right hand wall, with a free standing ceiling-high bookcase a few feet in front of the wall. Interspersed among the books on the outer side of the bookcase, the side that faces into the room, are various objects: science trophies Michael won, certificates she was awarded by the scientific societies to which she submitted papers. There’s also the framed cover of _Scientific American_ which features a tagline for the piece she wrote for them at the age of 16.

Michael walks up behind Philippa as she’s examining the latter and wraps her arms around her lover’s torso, then presses her lips to the nape of Philippa’s neck. The other woman shivers, and Michael grazes her teeth up the side of her neck, startling a moan from her.

“You can look at this tomorrow,” she suggests. “Right now, I want to take you into my bedroom, peel that dress off you, then drive you to orgasm after orgasm.”

“Fuck, Michael,” Philippa gasps. “Do it.”

“Leave your shoes here,” she says, and after they hit the floor, she slides around Philippa and takes both her hands in her own and walks her into her bedroom. She gets Philippa seated on the end of her bed, then she slips her shoes and socks off as her lover watches with avid interest. She peels out of the tuxedo jacket and drapes it on the back of her chair, then she unfastens her bowtie and pulls the ends loose to dangle down her chest. With her eyes fixed firmly on Philippa’s face she pulls open the drawer of the nearby dresser and reaches inside to remove the item she’d placed there earlier. Without breaking eye contact, she brings the object in front of her and holds out her hands with the strapless dildo resting on her palms.

“Are you –” she begins.

“Oh yeah,” Philippa says, without waiting for Michael to even finish the question. “You can fuck me with that.”

Michael smirks. She stalks towards her lover, and leans in to kiss her deeply, then she unzips Philippa’s dress and slowly peels it down and away from her body. 

“Are you going to keep your clothes on while you fuck me naked?” Philippa asks.

“Will that be okay?”

“Very okay,” Philippa say firmly.

“Good.” She decides to leave Philippa’s stockings on, however, because they look very good against the other woman’s legs. She settles Philippa in the middle of her bed, then she unfastens her pants and eases the smaller head of the strapless dildo into her own sex, moaning loudly as it slides into her slick heat. Then she climbs onto the bed and asks, “Missionary? Or something else?”

“Missionary first,” Philippa answers, and Michael smirks, then positions herself between her lover’s spread legs. 

She leans forward over Philippa and asks, “Ready?”

To her surprise Philippa grabs hold of the larger head of the dildo and draws it down to her sex. “I’ll always be ready for you, love.”

Michael groans at her words, then lunges forwards, pushing the dildo into Philippa at the same time as she begins kissing her desperately. Philippa just has time to groan out the word “Yes” before Michael’s mouth covers hers.

Michael fucks her deep and hard, thrusting vigorously as her inner muscles clench repeatedly around the toy that’s also buried in her sex. 

“Come for me, Philippa,” she eventually growls, feeling how close she herself is to a climax. “Come all over my cock, and then I will come inside you.”

Philippa gasps, then her walls clench tightly around the dildo, and Michael feels an immense sense of power as her hips jerk and she feels herself spilling inside her lover.

“Fuck, Michael,” Philippa says eventually. “That was – that was incredible.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees, and eases the dildo free of Philippa’s sex, then flops onto her back, her chest heaving and her heart thumping madly. It’s actually the most forceful orgasm she’s ever had while using the toy. 

Philippa rolls onto her side next to her, then pushes herself up onto her elbow so she can lean down and get her mouth on Michael’s. “You’re not done already, are you?” she asks in a teasing tone. “What happened to driving me to ‘orgasm after orgasm’?”

“Oh I’m very much not done yet,” Michael says, and tugs Philippa’s body over her own, eliciting a startled gasp. She guides the dildo back into her lover, relishing her moan as it fills her slick sex. “Now ride me.”

“Bossy,” Philippa complains, but in a very half-hearted way.

“With you? Totally.” She holds her lover’s hips as the other woman begins to move, thrusting herself up and down on the dildo, then circling her hips before she thrusts up and down again. Michael meets her thrusts with her own, her feet planted flat on the bed and her knees bent to give her extra leverage for her upthrusts.

Philippa climaxes again, but Michael doesn’t stop moving, and her lover chokes out a surprised sounding “Fuck!” as Michael continues fuck her.

“Michael. Michael. Michael.”

Having someone chant her name while she fucks them isn’t something that’s happened before, but Michael can’t say she minds. She drives Philippa to a third orgasm before she climaxes a second time herself.

This time Philippa is the one to flop onto the bed, breathless from their exertions. 

“Do you plan on getting naked?” she asks once she’s caught her breath again.

“Do you want me to?” Michael asks.

“Yes please.”

“Okay.”

Philippa pulls the unfastened bowtie from Michael’s collar while she concentrates on getting her buttons undone. She strips off the shirt, then Philippa slides off the bed and peels Michael’s pants off. Michael sits up and pulls off her bra, then gives Philippa an enquiring look. 

“Any preferences for how I fuck you next?” she asks.

“On hands and knees,” Philippa says.

Michael smirks, then gestures to the head of her bed, and Philippa moves into position, one hand clasping the head board. Michael moves in behind her, sliding deep into her lover. Then she clasps Philippa breasts and toys with her nipples, rolling them between forefinger and thumb as she fucks the other woman. She enjoys the sensation of her own breasts pressing against Philippa’s back, her nipples stiff little peaks against Philippa’s skin. She can feel her muscles tightening around the dildo, and she shifts forward, which allows her to get her mouth near Philippa’s ear in order to growl, “Come for me”, and also allows her to push even deeper into her lover’s sex.

Philippa gasps, then clenches, her come soaking Michael’s cock, which is enough to make Michael’s hips buck one more time, and then she’s coming too. She feels her lover starting to sag towards the bed and she clasps Philippa’s neck with her left hand, while using her right hand to grip her hip.

“No you don’t,” she says, “not yet.”

Philippa shudders, moaning Michael’s name as she resumes thrusting into her. 

“You need to come for me again,” Michael tells her, voice soft but determined. She flexes her fingers against Philippa’s throat, not tightening her grasp because she doesn’t want to hurt her, but she gets a sense of power out of holding her in position as she fucks her deeper and harder than before. 

“Come on, love,” she urges, her voice growing rougher. “Come for me.”

Philippa cries out as her inner walls tighten around Michael’s cock, and she groans in pleasure before spilling inside her.

“Good girl,” she gasps, then loosens her grip on Philippa’s neck and hip, before carefully sliding her dildo out of her lover. She eases her up onto her knees, then peers at her throat. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“I would have told you if you were hurting me,” Philippa says immediately. “You didn’t.” She swallows. “If you must know, I thought that was really hot.”

Michael smiles. “Me too,” she agrees, and leans in to kiss her.

“Can I suck you off?”

Michael gives her a startled look, then grins. “If you’d like to.”

“I would.” She waits until Michael’s lying on her back, then shifts around on the bed to kneel beside her. She leans down and laps at the tip of the dildo, then she slides her mouth down it until she can’t take any more down her throat. Michael moans, feeling every inch as it slides down Philippa’s throat. 

Her lover says something but Michael can’t understand, given her mouth’s currently full of Michael’s seven inch dick. Philippa slowly slides her mouth off her cock, then says, “I want to make you come.” 

“Yes,” Michael says emphatically.

“You need to thrust.”

She groans, but complies, snapping her hips up and thrusting into Philippa’s mouth, moaning loudly as she feels the pressure building up to another intense orgasm. Philippa’s fingers slide over her mound, then she presses her thumb to Michael’s clit, which is enough to send her over the edge, spilling her juices into the other woman’s mouth.

“Fuck, Philippa,” she says, utterly spent but deliciously sated.

“Yeah,” her lover says by way of acknowledgement. She flops onto the bed next to Michael. “Are we done?”

“For tonight, I think so.” She eases the dildo from her sex, then leans over and grabs the special wipes she uses to clean it. She then leaves it on top of the nightstand before tossing the wipes into her trash.

They ease themselves beneath the covers and cuddle up, kissing languidly for a bit until Michael’s forced to stifle a yawn. 

“We should sleep,” Philippa says. 

“Mmhmm.” 

“You gonna turn off the lights or shall I?”

Michael chuckles. “Matilda, lights,” she calls, and the lights go out.

“Wait, you have voice activated lighting?” Philippa asks in the dark.

Michael chuckles again. “Of course.”

“Matilda, though?”

“After Roald Dahl’s character,” she says. “One of my favourite books as a child. My dad – my birth dad, that is – used to read it to me nearly every night.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Mmm.” Michael tugs Philippa closer, tangling their legs together. “Go to sleep, love,” she murmurs. “You can talk about Matilda in the morning.”

Philippa chuckles, brushes her lips against Michael’s forehead, then says, “Okay. Goodnight, Michael.”

“Goodnight, Philippa.”

Michael feels a great sense of satisfaction at snuggling up to and falling asleep in the arms of Philippa, and as she sinks towards sleep, she decides she can forgive whoever sent a snowstorm to Chicago because without it, she’d never have met Philippa. She won’t go so far as to mentally thank Gabe Lorca, though, even if he was also partly responsible for her meeting Philippa – he was a creep.

She reminds herself, too, that she owes Milky some treats for getting himself lost – or faking getting lost – in the woods, since without him doing that, she’d never have dared to admit to Philippa that she’d woken up in her arm, wet and wanting.

She sighs softly, and feels Philippa tightening her arms. Philippa is the best Christmas gift ever.


End file.
